


Anywhere, Anywhere

by AbelQuartz



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Crying, Family, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hugs, Kansas City, Long Hair, Love, Men Crying, Music, Road Trips, Trauma, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 08:41:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25467937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbelQuartz/pseuds/AbelQuartz
Summary: One year after Steven’s left Beach City, Greg’s on the road with Sadie and Shep again, and his son’s on the same path in Kansas City. It’s time to meet up again, to see what’s the same, and to see what’s changed.
Relationships: Greg Universe & Steven Universe
Comments: 3
Kudos: 47





	Anywhere, Anywhere

**Author's Note:**

> A sponsored story from Discord. Thanks, Joseph!

The chords always came back. It was just a simple position, with the fingers all in place, but Greg felt the melody when he strummed. The amp vibrated with the start of a song that didn’t exist. The man switched his fingers, played the harmony, and let the sound echo through the parking lot.

“Hey, Mr. Universe. Nice riff.”

“Thanks, Shep!”

Wherever they stopped on the tour, it was nice to get some space. The outskirts of Kansas City were lovely in that historic-district way, the kind that Greg was used to seeing in between his hometown and the coast. Western Cave had been good to them so far, and Greg had parked them at a little bed and breakfast away from the city. It was a refurbished millhouse, with old bricks and a view of the rocky river than ran southward through the states. Sadie was inside songwriting, getting ready to rest. There was no show tonight.

Despite protests, Greg always insisted on keeping Sadie and Shep secure while he stayed in the van. It was his place to write when he wanted to, to play and to sleep and find comfort among his meager belongings. The summer afternoon brought their calm minds together. Being bunched up along a tour could only be so comfortable for so long. Thankfully, Greg thought, he had company that was actually pleasant to have in his van. Shep and Sadie were communicative, helpful with navigation, and liked the range of music that they had at the ready to listen to along the highway. Greg hadn’t shared music with anyone that way since Steven was a kid.

“Have you thought about a place to meet up with him?” Shep said. 

“There’s so much in the city, I just got overwhelmed searching. I think we’re gonna find a place with free parking and find the nearest coffee shop.”

“Man. How long’s it been since you guys actually got together?”

“Last time I saw Steven in person was when he was leaving the house,” Greg sighed. “Can’t believe I missed his seventeenth birthday. And now, with the tour, probably gonna miss his eighteenth by a week. I didn’t think he’d grow up so fast.”

“Us kids tend to do that,” Shep chuckled.

Greg smiled and gently put the guitar down on the van floor, shutting off the amp. All the little musical pieces he had wanted as a young man were his now, and they were small pleasures in a world of strangeness. Managing a band was better than managing a car wash, for sure. The music industry was a beast, but the people on the ground, the roadies and techies, the people like Shep and Sadie, made it all worth it. It was nice to see positive passion again.

“What’s he up to right now?” Shep said. “Haven’t checked his ChekIn today.”

The man fished his phone out of his pocket and opened up the app. Steven had a good eye for photography, but he always posted with a dozen different filters. At least when he was hiking or in nature, he let it go. Greg swiped up to the most recent one, and he grinned at the image of Steven’s hands flashing a peace sign at a street mural. They had actually seen it near one of the gigs, and for the first time in a while, Greg felt something like nervousness. He let out a deep breath and let the phone down.

“You alright, Mr. Universe?”

“Yeah, Shep, um… It’s just been a while since we’ve been apart. When Steven was a kid I could always just drive up and see him whenever we wanted, but now, he’s really just out there.”

“No matter how far you guys are, Steven’s always gonna have part of you with him,” Shep said. “That’s what it means to be a loving family, y’know?”

“I just wonder how he’s been doing,” Greg said. “We don’t really message that much when he’s on the road. I like his posts, and he likes the band’s, but it’s not the same. Man. I know I can talk to my own son, what am I thinking.”

“Pre-show jitters. We all got ‘em.”

Watching Steven get taller and hearing his voice deepen was jarring enough. After a full year away, Greg could only imagine how the boy had changed. The man himself was almost six feet and burlier than he had ever wanted to be, and Steven was probably headed down the same path. It was only a year, of course, but how much could change in that time? With a boy like Steven, he couldn’t possibly know. The changes came so fast, and he had to adjust as best he could.

His phone buzzed. It was a text from Steven, and Greg swiped up excitedly, grinning up at Shep. The musician raised their eyebrows and leaned on the van door. 

> _ im downtown! well im close. gonna walk to kepler park _

> _ I can meet you on the west side of the park once I park my van! Sound good? _

> _ YEP see you soon! _

Greg turned his screen off. He couldn’t keep a smile off his face, and Shep smiled back, shooting the man with finger-guns. They stepped away from the doors as Greg turned and secured his guitar and amp for the ride over, putting it back with the rest of the equipment. 

“You’re both gonna be just fine, Mr. Universe,” Shep said. “Steven can’t wait to see you.”

“Tell Sadie I’ll text when I’m headed back, okay? We might stay out for a meal.”

“I’ll keep her company, don’t worry.” 

Greg closed the van doors as Shep headed back inside. He brushed off his t-shirt and cleared his throat, blowing out a lungful of minor panic. Nervousness just had its way of taking over his body when he least wanted it to. There was nothing strange about meeting his own son, no more than there was coming out onto the stage and playing rhythm guitar for a park full of indie fans. 

He pulled himself into the familiar front seat and tapped at the new GPS. The path to the park lit up purple, and the van roared to life. Driving through the middle of the continental states was a new experience with company like this, at this time of his life. Still, there were things that didn’t change, and as Greg pulled out onto the main road, he found he could point them out easily. The trees were just big enough to seem like they would be small in any other part of the country, transplanted in neat rows along the sidewalk. The very air had a brighter hue, like the sun was shining too warmly, unfettered by the atmosphere. The whole city felt like it was in a valley, a shallow crater the size of the state and then some. Asphalt sloped in perfect black lines in every direction, a labyrinth of lights and trash cans, signs leading to all the different districts. High-rise buildings spread over the city only to disappear an hour’s drive away in any direction, the red signals nothing more than a mirage.

Steven had been seeing this all for the first time. When he was a boy, he had rattled off all the places that he could go with the warp pads, all over the world, but he could always find his way back home. Traveling to alien planets and distant islands had probably warped his sense of road tripping. Still, he had elected to take this journey the manual way, and Greg had commended him for that. It was the only thing that he could do to sate his apparent wanderlust. Greg stopped at a red light and put on his turn signal. He looked into the mirror.

He had never asked Steven how he had come to the decision to move out and live on the road for a while. Of course, the boy knew he had a home wherever the Gems were, but Greg had always suspected that there was something else behind Steven’s reasoning. The decision had never been light. The way forward to healthy living would always be difficult. Was moving out really the choice that Steven had thought was the best? Greg had never pressed him. He had worried, of course, but he had never questioned it. Maybe, one year later, he could get some answers.

The possible answer, the one that would most surprise Greg, was that Steven was taking after his father. With more stability, of course — Greg had run away with a guitar and the clothes on his back, with barely a hundred dollars to his name. Steven was taking a safer route. Maybe that’s why he thought it was a choice at all. Greg let out a short laugh as he rounded the corner to the park. If he’d had the money and love that Steven had, then he would have left the house years before he did. A sixteen-year-old out on the road, well, then the Universe cycle would have been complete. 

Greg was surprised to see that the park was more or less empty. Maybe it was the city that got the brunt of the tourism, and places like this were left to the locals, who wanted to be out of town anyway. He pulled up next to the sidewalk, then pulled out his wallet as he strolled over to the kiosk. Well, free parking on the weekends. On that positive note, Greg locked the van and pulled out his phone. 

> _ Walking over now! By the fountain? _

> _ coming!!! _

The man tugged at his shirt as he walked along the sidewalk. Steven had never been one to go to parks as a kid. With the ocean and forests around them, they had wandered and camped in the wilderness instead of the tamed little areas around town. Beach City didn’t have anything like Kepler Park. The grass looked like it was mowed twice a day, in perfect concentric patterns. All the trees were tall and lush, with not even the hint of a lover’s knife-mark to be seen on the trunks. Greg breathed in as he walked up to the old iron fountain. The fish, frozen in mid-gulp, squirted arcs around the greened metal, bubbling columns swayed by the gentle wind.

In the early days, before he had considered Steven’s Gem powers, Greg had thought about taking Steven across the country. He could live in the van and busk for gas money and food, teaching Steven and letting the boy attract pitying gazes and open wallets. Somewhere in his head and heart, the man knew that was the wrong decision, and he was thankful that there was some sense left in his brain to give Steven a singular place to call home besides the van. He found it interesting how Steven considered the town and the Earth to be his home, an expanse beyond the van and the house and the car wash. Some day, he would have to ask his son about it.

“Dad!”

Greg turned to the call to see his son leap across the green. He would never be used to the sight of his child taking a leap off the ground and soaring, defying gravity, his body weightless and free as he came to hug his father. The blur of a boy was just enough to show Greg that he had kept his plain style, the same t-shirt, the same jeans and sandals, the same broad smile before the impact of Steven’s body struck him.

It wasn’t just an illusion; despite barreling towards the man, Steven felt like he weighed nothing as he wrapped his arms tightly around his father. Greg grunted from the pressure nonetheless and hugged Steven back tightly. Their laughter rose together as Greg spun around, Steven’s legs lifting off the earth. Greg caught his breath and planted Steven back down onto solid ground, gripping the teenager’s shoulders and pushing him away to examine him. He took in a sharp breath.

“Oh, my word, Steven, your hair!”

“D’you like it?”

“I love it!”

Steven rarely got his hair cut as a child. Like his frame and voice, it was just one of those things that didn’t change, and Greg never questioned it. The black curls had always grown with his son as he aged; it was only natural that they had come to this point.

From what Greg could tell, it was just barely too short to tie back in a ponytail. The curls were combed back over Steven’s forehead, kept out of his eyes through sheer force of will and some water that hadn’t quite dried yet. They covered Steven’s neck and were just starting to touch his shoulders. No matter how much Steven had been away, his hair was still as dense as iron and beautifully black, dark as night and as messy as the day he was born. Greg smiled and raised his hands, running his fingers over his son’s scalp, pushing in and moving through Steven’s hair like he had done to put the boy to sleep so many years ago. 

Steven shuddered with the touch, but the embarrassed redness was hard to miss. Greg snorted and pushed a closed fist against Steven’s shoulder. His eyes lingered over his son’s cheeks. The bones were just slightly more pronounced, his jaw shaping up underneath his baby fat. There were small marks, not acne, but hairs threatening to push through. Dark vellus hairs were lightly spread around Steven’s upper lip. Greg forced himself to blink.

“I know you’re on the road a lot, but have you been showering and keeping yourself in check?” Greg said.

“Yeah, of course! A lot of gas stations near truck stops have places where you can put in, like, two bucks and get a hot shower. But I cut down on gas station food, I promise.”

“Oh yeah, gotta hit the town! Get up all in those fancy restaurants.”

“Sometimes, yeah.”

“What, a dad can’t want his son to treat himself once in a while.”

Steven smiled and bobbed his head, putting his hands on top of his pockets. “Well, you know, you get there, and everyone in the restaurant is with someone, and I’m there alone, and it feels a little weird. Just a little. Yeah?”

Greg let his smile fade as he opened his mouth. Steven wasn’t looking him in the eye. Somewhere in the distance, a truck honked across a motorway and a smaller car responded in like profanity. Both Universes turned to look at the sound as the echo faded across the park. Greg cleared his throat and took Steven by the shoulder. 

“Let’s head down to Main, I’ll treat you to a cold drink,” Greg said. “So, what did you do along the way while you were getting here? Got anything good to post?”

“Yeah. Yeah! I, um, I went on a hike!”

They began to walk. Steven pulled out his phone and began to open up and show his father pictures of rock formations and waterfalls, the greenery spreading across the mountain ranges of middle America before the flatland. They were almost as dramatic as the first trips across the northern wastes, with the multicolored canyons and the wonders of the desert. There was nothing quite like driving solo. The freedom of the open road had hit Greg when he was a young man leaving his home, and he could only imagine how Steven was feeling while healing. The process to get him where he was had been grueling, and by the time he left, there were still bits of Greg that worried, but he had to let the boy go, didn’t he. Steven seemed to be happier. He was flipping through blurry photos of birds, then closer photos with seeds in his hand, talking excitedly about an app that could distinguish birds by their call. 

But it was the hair that really made Greg smile as he listened. It bounced now with every step, like a maestro’s baton, like sea-grass in a winding wave. The style made Steven look older, and Greg realized that that was what struck him. Steven looked more like an older teenager now, like he was on the cusp of adulthood. Everything was, of course, still messy, and treated much differently. He was clearly trying his best, but Steven didn’t know how to care for hair like that. Greg couldn’t help but chuckle as they passed in front of a local coffee joint. 

“The thing about night hiking is that you gotta be prepared to stay out in the worst elements, because with the light —”

Greg grabbed his son’s shoulder and steered him towards the door. 

“Oh! Sorry, heh, got a little excited.”

“You’re good, buddy. Let’s grab something and head back to the gardens.”

Ten minutes later and they were passing over a crosswalk, sweet mango green tea in Greg’s hand and an iced chocolate raspberry monstrosity in Steven’s. Even in the middle of the summer, businesspeople in suits passed them by, in different shades of black and grey. A young man on a skateboard drifted around them and disappeared around a corner. They passed by a busker with a saxophone. Greg peeled off a hundred-dollar bill and let it drift into the case, walking off before the man could say anything in return. Brick buildings and apartments slid past them in the heat, sheltered from the wind but not from the sun. Everyone was walking faster than them, it seemed. Even the small dogs on branded leashes tugged forward. 

Greg needed to sit down. That was the worst part about getting older. Walking through the cities was lovely, but he just wanted to lie down in the back of the van again. And while they were on the road, he knew he’d be dying after a few hours of driving to get out and stretch his legs while Sadie and Shep got sodas at a gas station or something. Everything was so sore, all the time, and if he told Steven, the boy would just worry.

Older sections of the park were easy to distinguish because of the variance and size of the trees. Even from a distance Greg and Steven could see the out-of-place conifers and rows of just-too-neat birch trees scattered across the park. The greenhouse complex of the connected botanical gardens was big enough to hold a small concert. Greg wondered if they could convince some city planners to have a concert inside one of those places some day.

From the bench on the edge, the Universe boys could see the trees, the park, the people playing, and the traffic on the edge of the buildings. The rocky river on the other side of the park was just barely visible, or at least the handrail was. Greg grunted as he lowered himself to the wood, feeling his legs simultaneously screaming at him and thanking him for the relief.

“How’s it been on the road with Sadie and Shep?” Steven asked.

“It’s been pretty great! You know, the hardest part is coming up with a better band name than just ‘Shep and Sadie.’”

“They’re just performing like that?”

“Oh yeah, there are plenty of acts like that! Mark and Kimmy, Simeon and Garfield, you name it. A lot of legends go together like that. Even if they stick to the underground, it’s not a bad label.”

“But something tells me you’ve been brainstorming a bunch of names with them.”

“Tons. I was a fan of ‘Young Comets.’ But that was kinda derivative.”

Steven chuckled and bent his head forward to take a drink. A strand of hair fell into his eyes, and the boy flung it behind him, before it fell back, and he pushed it back behind his ear, and it fell back again. Greg reached over and tucked the strand away. Steven sighed and licked his lips.

“I really, really don’t want to get a haircut,” he said. 

“But you’re having trouble with longer hair.”

“I don’t get it! It’s — hair! It’s not supposed to be hard! You wash it and dry it and then let it go.”

“Steven, um, it’s a little more complicated than that,” said Greg, stifling a laugh. “Are you using shampoo?”

“Yes, all the time!”

“And that’s your first problem.”

When Steven looked up, Greg almost spilled his drink laughing. The raised eyebrows, the mouth forming a rebuttal that didn’t exist, the childish indignancy written on the boy’s face — they all brought Greg back to a time when Steven was still learning about the world. It was more than apparent than there was still learning to do. Greg patted Steven on the shoulder.

“No shampoo, kiddo. Just conditioner, and even then, you don’t need to use it every day. When my hair was at its longest, I just rinsed and dried it it with the wind. If you really want to get something done, you go to a professional.”

“Have you been to a real salon, dad? Did you go when you had longer hair?”

“Heck no, I couldn’t afford that! Besides, it would take ages for them to get it done. I just took care of it as best I could, and it seemed to do okay. I spent ages brushing it, though.”

“Remember when you let me do that when I was, like, four?” Steven said. “I can still remember it, just a little, running a brush through again and again. I probably tore out chunks, too.”

“You were gentle! You used to love doing things for hours at a time. I could fall asleep and let you brush the whole day and you wouldn’t even notice. Do you think you’re gonna let your hair get as long as your old man had it?”

Steven grimaced, and Greg pretended to put a hand up to his heart, wounded by the expression. In Steven’s defense, Greg’s hair had been pretty wild, and he remembered how after a certain point it wouldn’t grow without constant trimming. Keeping it waist-length was tedious enough without growing it to his ankles.

Both the Universes laughed, and Greg shook around the melting ice in his drink.

“Alright, point taken,” the man murmured. “Hey, but do whatever you want, buddy. It’s your body, after all.”

“I’ve been thinking about other stuff, actually. You know, getting my ears pierced, or getting a tattoo. But I don’t even know what I’d like to get.”

“Those are pretty rough. I could never do all the needles, but I’m a wimp. I’m sure you’ve met some people who’ve given you suggestions, though. Gotta find an image or a picture that says ‘you,’ that means something. Like a shooting star, or a guitar?”

“I actually helped out a couple bikers with some directions, at a road stop, and we all had lunch together,” Steven said, shifting uncomfortably. “They all said the same thing about what kind of tattoo I should get.”

“Oh, yeah? What’d they say?”

“Roses.”

Greg took a long sip. Steven nodded solemnly and let the silence sink in for a second. The man opened his mouth for a moment after swallowing, then let the lips fold back into a tight line.

The hardest part about raising Steven was the Gem matters, of course, but the issues between him and his mother was a close second. Rose’s history had been complicated. She hadn’t asked about Greg’s past, and he hadn’t asked about hers. Living in the present moment had come with willful ignorance, as Greg only really found out once Steven was born. 

Everyone came with baggage. The more he learned about Rose through Steven and the Gems, and the more Steven’s own issues came to light, the more Greg realized that nobody was safe from it. Sheltering his son from responsibility had raised him to be naturally curious, and undoubtedly kind, but all the identity, the sacrifice, the proximity to death, had all come falling on the boy’s head, as inevitably as his heart beating. Rose had had baggage of her own, and she had left it all behind, creating literal generations of baggage for her family and lovers. Greg’s youth had changed him, and it had changed Steven, and for the longest time he couldn’t imagine that it was for the worse. Seeing his son in pain changed all that. The fact that he hadn’t seen it sooner was worse.

“Do you think it was the right thing to do, dad?”

“What was, kiddo?”

“Leaving the house. Leaving Beach City. I talked with my therapist the other day, and she asked why I left, and I couldn’t tell her.”

“Steven, I can’t tell you whether or not it was the right or wrong thing to do. But it’s a decision that you made, and…” 

Greg bit his lip. The first thing that came to his mouth was the question of want.  _ You can go home whenever you want. _ But that wasn’t what Steven needed. Of course the boy was thinking about going home. He was questioning himself, as he always had; some things never changed. Greg hated that thought process. Watching Steven doubt himself had been painful before, and there were the scars, the problems that came up from the depths, where every decision was wrong and final. Steven couldn’t live like that anymore. 

Instead, the adult put his arm around Steven’s shoulder and pulled the boy in tight. The child’s body immediately tensed, then relaxed, melting like his frozen drink. It had probably been weeks since Steven had touched another person. Out on the road, Connie could visit him anywhere, and Greg wanted to ask about their visits but he knew it was none of his business. He wondered what the girl thought about his son’s hair. Maybe he would send her a message. 

“Buddy, when you got the idea in your head, when you packed up and drove off,” Greg murmured, “what were you looking for? Just a word, first thing that comes to your mind.”

“Change,” Steven blurted out. “I-I was looking for change. But…I don’t know what I want to change in the first place.”

“You wanted to settle down somewhere else. To see what the world had to offer to you, outside of all that.”

“There’s so much in the world I could be looking for. I could be driving the car into the warp pads and going to new planets! I could be learning other languages and going to other countries! But this just felt like the right thing to do, and it’s just — why?”

“Heh, you’re trying to ask why people feel what they feel. I’m no philosopher, kiddo, but I don’t need to be to tell you that no matter how confused you are about all this, it’s working.”

“How do you…”

Greg smirked and pulled on the side of Steven’s hair, turning the boy’s head towards his shoulders. Steven grunted in pain, narrowing his eyes at his father. But the man merely raised his brow and patted his son on the shoulders.

“Because you’re changing,” said Greg. “Look at your hair. Look at the pictures you’ve been posting, the places you’ve been, the things you’re learning. Yeah, you got bigger and all that as you got to be a teen, but you didn’t shapeshift your hair, or your face, or your height. And Steven, you know it’s different now.”

“You’re right, but isn’t that just supposed to happen?”

“Was it happening when you were in Beach City, buddy?”

Steven shook his head. He let out a little sigh, and rubbed his thumb underneath his eyes. Greg turned to look out at the park, holding his son close. It was possible that, through all their travels, Greg and Steven had both seen all the trees here in their natural habitats. There were trees that couldn’t even grow here. In the California desert, there were trees that could be as old as the Gems, growing in the harshest parts of the country. There were trees that were as big as the buildings behind them. For some of these trees, they grew in forests so dense that nothing could grow on the floor below except for mushrooms.

“I’m… Steven, I’ve always been proud of you, you know that.”

“I know, dad…”

Greg swallowed and put his drink on the bench. There was a lump in his throat, and Steven could tell. The teenager looked over and scooted closer to his dad, raising a hand to meet the man’s own on his shoulder. There were some things that just couldn’t be said, but they needed to exist in the world, easy or not.

“No, Steven, it’s more than that. When you...were going through all those things, I thought I could get you back to normal,” said Greg. “And now, I can see that...normal was hurting you. You didn’t need to have me to get you there. You needed change. I was so scared, Steven, I couldn’t do it again.”

“Couldn’t do what, dad?”

Greg lifted his hand to cover his mouth for a moment.

“More than anything, I was scared that you were going to hate me like I hated my parents. As soon as I knew that I had done something wrong, I thought, that’s it, he’s leaving, and he’s going to grow up and he’s never going to talk to me again. 

“A-and… You’re the most important person in the world to me, Steven. More than myself. I thought if you changed that I would lose you, but then, if you stayed the same, I’d still lose you, and there’s nothing I can do…”

The insides of Greg’s cheeks throbbed as he bit down to keep from crying. The tears came out anyway, unfettered by the pain, and Steven didn’t even try to stop from crying as he held his father’s hand. There was nobody around to see them, thank goodness. Greg sat perfectly still as he put his hand over his mouth and let everything fall.

It was so much better. The fear was there, and the fear was gone, reduced, burnt up. The ashes still swirled in his mind, coming up again and again, indestructible thoughts of worry and loss. They had been there since he first learned that Rose was pregnant, and they would be there until he was ash himself. But Greg felt the warmth of his son and he felt the boy shaking just slightly under the pressure of his arm. 

“Dad, I’m… I’m always gonna be Steven. I’m always gonna be me. I couldn’t hate you, not ever. I love you, dad.”

“I love you too, Steven. You’re always gonna be my boy.”

“You’re never gonna stop bein’ my dad.”

Obvious, yes, but what else was there to say? If they lost each other, then they wouldn’t be able to say it, now would they. Greg sat, struck by the thought that he had never had a conversation with his own parents like this. The catalyst for leaving his home was a need for independence, yes, but it was also a want — a lack of want. He didn’t want to stay in the family anymore, and they didn’t care. The DeMayo household never raised him to want to be part of it. It was a set of necessities, of food, of shelter, and never love. Once he could provide all those things for himself, he had journeyed off.

Steven, on the other hand, had left all that behind. He had his father’s financial backing, which would last long into both of their lives, but he also carried the love with him. That was the constant tether. Love healed pain, but only if love changed. Everything on Earth was in a constant state of changing, and there were only so many constants left. They had to believe that love was one of them.

The boy left his drink on the bench and turned his body to hug his father tenderly. Greg clutched Steven to his chest, twisting himself to hold on to Steven as he felt the long, unkempt hair on the side of his face. 

Once they broke apart, Greg knew it would only be a matter of time before they had to say goodbye again. But it was just like how Steven had left Beach City. Greg couldn’t keep his son there, and in his heart, yes, there were the same fears, but he had let Steven go anyway. Love and trust changed with one another. The next time they met, whenever they met, it would be just as sweet as today, with so many things different and so much the same. Maybe it would be a year from now, or maybe the tour would intersect in a matter of weeks. Maybe if he could stomach it, Greg could take Lion with Connie and warp to wherever Steven was in the world for a meal and a joke.

That was the future. This was the now. Greg closed his eyes and let his lungs fill. He could smell the lingering road scent in Steven’s shirt and body. He could smell the cheap shampoo that was tangling up the child’s hair. He felt Steven’s head turn into him, a gentle motion that brought back a sudden memory of infancy, of getting Steven to fall asleep in his arms.

Neither one of them let go.


End file.
